The Visitor
by ColeMight
Summary: John has only seen Sherlock show interest in one women and even that didn't last long. So what happens when one shows up and changes everything?


_I do not own Sherlock._

* * *

The Visitor.

John Watson has been living with his roommate, Sherlock Holmes, going on three years now. And, if he is to be so bold, could tell you just about everything about the tall man. His taste in food, his daily habits, the way he likes his tea, and what shows he likes on telly. He might not have much knowledge as to what goes on in his friend brain (he is a genius after all), but by this point in their relationship, he can tell you generally what his friend is contemplating. And there's one thing he was for certain, Sherlock was an A-sexual creature. He only ever showed interest in one women ( and if they were to be honest it was more for her mind than any other part of her). He had no need for things like _that_ in his life, as he constantly reminded everyone.

And John was convinced this was true, that is until a certain a particular someone showed up on their door step asking for help…

It was a normal afternoon, hot and a bit muggy, but the air-conditioning was working fantastically and the flat was perfectly comfortable. John had found himself on the computer once again writing about a case they had just solved. It only took them a day, it was a new record for Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and John was just glad to be along for the ride. The man in question was currently at the kitchen table examining some cultures he had been storing in the cupboard for the last few months. That was when it happened. The doorbell rang… Actually rang…. Someone actually took the time to push the bloody button instead of just waltzing in as always.

Both men looked at each other in slight confusion, partly because they had honestly never heard the sound before and partly because (once they realized what it actually was) someone had done it. "Well, it's clearly not Mycroft." John spoke as he got up to answer it, knowing full well the other man wouldn't even bother. (It didn't bother him to do so.) He descended the stairs and opened the door with easy, stopping slightly at the figure in front of him.

She was young, maybe seventeen or so, with long wildly curly black hair and bright blue eyes. Tall, reaching just above Watson himself and pale. Something about her seemed familiar but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. "Uh, Hello?"

"Yes, um, is this 221b Baker Street?" John nodded slowly trying to figure out why the young lady was here. "Is Sherlock Holmes here?" Another nod. "May I see him?"

"Can I ask who's calling?"

"Skylar."

"Skylar-?" He probed for a least name.

"I don't believe this situation calls for my last name, could you please just bring me to Sherlock. Thank you" Her politeness clearly gone, she nudged her way past the blonde and moved to the stairs. John followed suit, closing the door behind them.

"Sherlock you have a visitor." He spoke as the entered the living room. But Sherlock didn't bother to look up from his microscope and see who it was, he merely grunted and waves a hand in the direction of the two others. "Sherlock don't be rude, this young lady is here to see you."

"I will be taking no visitors today John, these cultures need attending to."

"Not even me?" The girl asked, the sound of her voice causing Sherlock to jump to his feet, a startled expression painting his face.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't apologize, it was a question."

"I need your help. You said if I ever needed it to come to you."

"Yes, well," he moved from the kitchen to the couch, cleaning a few thing off it. "Here, sit." She did so. "What do you need?"

"Mother is missing." She went straight to the point. "You know I wouldn't be here if it wasn't serious, but I haven't heard from her in three days. The police haven't any leads, I'm worried." John stood there, utterly confused. "Have you talked to her lately?"

"No, not since the monthly drop off." His voice broke slightly, that caught the blonde's attention, but he was far too polite to verbally question the situation. "Do you know anyone who might be-"

"She doesn't have any enemies if that's what you're asking. The only thing I can think of is her connection to you." Tears began to form in the girls eyes.

"Skylar we will find her." He got up and pulled her into a hug. That was the breaking point for John. He had rarely seen this man show affection to the closest people in his life and here he was hugging this random child.

"Ok, I'm sorry, what exactly is going on here?" The two turned to him with the same questioning expression. "Sherlock? Who is she? How is her mother connected to you?"

"I thought it was obvious," The tall man spoke in slight confusion.

"Yeah, me too." She agreed.

"Clearly it's not."

"John," Sherlock released the girl from his arms, placing a hand between her shoulder blades, "This is Skylar Marie Cannid-Holmes, my daughter."


End file.
